The stag's curse
by GothamDark90
Summary: Bran and Arya discuss ghosts. Companion piece to "To be ignorant." Gendry Baratheon, as fate would have it, suffered from the same curse that his father did. Warning, spoilers for ASOS, AFFC, and ADWD, and Jon Snow's possible identity.


Disclaimer: I own nothing

Summary: Bran and Arya discuss ghosts. Companion piece to "To be ignorant." Gendry Baratheon, as fate would have it, suffered from the same curse that his father did. Spoilers for ASOS, AFFC, and ADWD, and Jon Snow's possible identity.

**The stag's curse:**

Bran Stark, the Master of Laws, part of the Small Council at his brother Jon Targaryen's side often knew more than he'd like to. It was really only part of being a warg and being part of the Small Council. Then there was the misfortune of being in King's Landing, a nest of deceit and lies, and constant information flowing. Having the Spider nearby with his many "little birds" singing to him was distorting the energy in the air worse. He was even more tense nowadays than back when he and the Reed children helped fight The Others with Bloodraven.

Knowing too much was a necessity, not a blessing, far from it.

There was only one real blessing for him here. The inventors. They had created an odd steel contraption that wheeled him from place to place. He just had to push the wheels gently and they transported him throughout the halls of the castle. A rather curious device, but he preferred it to having to be carried around all the time, and Hodor's demise had made transportation less accessible.

Regardless of the pain of knowing too much, Bran didn't regret being here. There needed to be changes made in the Realm. Bran and his brothers and sisters had seen too many wrongdoings for him to regret it. He was already showing Jon how they could send a law, equally feeding and paying the citizens of King's Landing. They would be fed and less inclined to take their fury and frustration out on those that ruled.

Winterfell was not abandoned. There were Starks in Winterfell. Three of them now that the Queen of the North, Sansa had bore a son, Ned. Perhaps there would be a fourth, as Bran received a letter telling him that his brother Lord Rickon was to be wed to Shireen Baratheon in a year hence. There being three Starks here would not make a difference, it would only help the North.

Stroking the fur along Summer's massive russet head, calming down as he heard the wolf's pleased growls, Bran became alert to a presence approaching. He heard nothing, saw nothing, but sensed someone. Sensed her in the darkest shadows.

"Arya." He said, voice soothed and serene, hiding any fear and agony he may still have hidden in his heart, "Sister, come out. I know you're here."

There was a fluid rush of motion, causing Summer to perk her triangular ears up curiously and a slender, sinewy figure cloaked in black with sable hair raining down to the middle of her back, and a long, skinny blade like a needle strapped to the left side of her belt landed from seemingly nowhere in front of the cripple and the wolf.

Bran smiled up at his sister, scratching his wolf behind the ear. "Is it really that easy to sense me, Bran?" Arya said, grey eyes cold and unfeeling but a smirk was visible on her face as she spoke, "I'll have to hide a bit better."

Bran shrugged, "It's because we're wargs Arya. I can't hide from you either."

"Of course you can't," Arya chuckled, tone dry as the sands surrounding the Martell House, "But no one can hide from me." There was a wickedness in her voice that made Bran's jaw clench, but he didn't ponder it. The young assassin voiced coolly, "Besides, how could you hide from anyone in _that _thing?" Her eyes lowered to the strange chair Bran sat in. The crippled wolf smiled, mirth in his words, "Who needs to hide when you are the Master of Laws?"

Arya cocked her head as if fascinated by what her brother said. "Don't let that power go to your head, Bran." She remarked, face turning grim, "Political power did not save the King of the North. Being a king or a Lord or a Master does not save you in the end from the executioner's sword once the order's been given."

There was a cold dangerous silence that was almost deafening in the hallway. Bran didn't say a word.

It was Arya's voice, tinging with something her younger brother couldn't detect that broke that silence, "You look like him, you know. Especially with the beard. You favor his looks. You may have our mother's hair, the hair she had while she was alive and her eyes, but your face is so much like his."

Bran smiled, feeling a pang hit him and swallowed hard. They never said _his _name. Neither his name, nor the name he was known by that many of his friends and brother used for him. Never. It was as if they couldn't. It was as if everything that was delicately being kept in place would shatter if they did. Jon understood and never uttered the man's name either. It was hard enough knowing that Sansa had a son now named Ned.

Bran wasn't sure he could bear meeting the child when he and Arya eventually traveled to Winterfell to visit their brother and sister and mother. "And you look like our aunt, or so I've heard." He responded, not knowing what else to say. It was painful enough as it was, "Are you sure you're not Jon's sister?"

They both knew that question was preposterous, as Lyanna died only a few days after Jon was born, and Arya was quite a bit younger than Jon, but they both chuckled at it anyway. Well, Bran chuckled, Arya however barked out a laugh. "Funny, brother." She sneered, "You seem quicker to insult than usual. Has someone been cruel to you?" Though the dark haired warrior was jesting him, he could detect the rage underlying her voice, a desire to protect her remaining broken family.

"It's not that." He quickly amended, not wanting there to be more trouble here than there usually was, "I just feel pity for the Bull. For our King Jon's Commander of the Kingsguard."

For once, Arya's unfeeling appearing face seemed startled. "Gendry?" She asked, laughter edging back into her voice, "What of him? Seven Hells, don't tell me you feel sorry for him just because I wouldn't marry him."

Bran waved the hand that wasn't petting Summer, "That's not what I meant. He loves you, and you care nothing for him."

"Your point?" The slim, muscled woman asked coyly, now explicitly smirking, "Gendry had his chance. I was loyal to him. He chose to stay by the Brothers without Banners. I didn't leave him, it was him that left me."

Bran nodded, understanding, but wishing that it was easier for the Bull. "I gather it was easier to make that choice when the Faceless man stood by you." The red haired wolf said, mind filled with terrible thoughts about Arya being in Braavos, heart being turned to stone.

Arya's upper lip lifted and some of her teeth showed in her grin. "It was," She said, "Jaqen came back with me after all." Her grin widened, "It's really funny. _He _told me once that I was to marry a prince once. Father did. He told me that I was to have children. I was angry at Sansa at that time. I told him that that wasn't me."

Bran leaned his head down, eyes going to the lingering bulge of his sister's still large but empty stomach. "You were wrong about the third part of what you said." He chuckled, "Jaqen's no prince. And you two are not married. But you have a son from him. I assume it doesn't bother you that your son is in technical terms a bastard?"

Arya rolled her eyes, face turning sardonic, "You think I care how the Realm works? Kings, Queens, Lords and Ladies all think they're better than everyone else because of how well fed they are and how much gold they have, but in the end, all men must die."

Bran felt his hand stiffen in Summer's fur. There it was. The thing he didn't want to speak of with her. About her time in Braavos. "Valar Morghulis." He breathed out, knowing his sister heard.

"Valar Morghulis," The wild woman echoed, grin back on her face, "It doesn't matter how rich or poor one is, how old or young one is, if one is a king or peasant. In the end, we all die. Marriage is just a way of gaining loyalty from the rich and kings and queens. I need no marriage to prove that my son is mine. And Jaqen needs no marriage to prove that he belongs to me. I care nothing for how the Realm sees bastards. Jon was a bastard and he's now the king. Gendry was a bastard and he's now the Commander of the Kingsguard. I don't care how anyone sees Jaqen and my son."

Bran smiled. Despite how afraid he was of what kind of beast was stirring in his sister, hiding behind that mask of ice, that was an answer that he completely expected from the older Stark. Arya was a brutally honest woman, no matter what. She cared nothing for hypocrisy.

The blue eyed Master of Laws sighed, looking down at his nearly sleeping wolf, "Where is Robb anyway? With his father?"

"Yes he is," Came the neutral response, "Jaqen has him. He is being a good father. That's more than I can say for Robert Baratheon. Nymeria is guarding them both. She's a loyal wolf. Better than any kingsguard. I trust her more than any soldier."

Bran smiled wryly. Arya had a family. Not just him, Jon, Sansa, little Ned and Rickon. She was starting her own pack, and as was always her way, she took orders from no one.

"I envy you, sister," He added, taking a glance at the older warg, "I never regret becoming the Master of Laws. The Realm needs it. But sometimes I wish I could make choices as firmly and independently as you do. But I feel sorry for the stag."

He felt his sister's questioning eyes on him. He continued, deciding to elaborate, "There are stories you know. Winterfell and Harrenhal aren't the only places that are said to have ghosts lurking in their dens. Our aunt was taken by Rhaegar Targaryen. Taken from Robert Baratheon and our father."

"Yes I _know_." Arya snorted, "Everyone knows that story. That's where Jon came from. And what makes you think she was taken from Robert? How do you know Robert ever had her in the first place? Because our grandfather promised her hand to him? How does that mean that Robert had her?"

Bran tried to his hide laughter from the assassin. No hypocrisy got by Arya, ever.

"He loved her." He responded, unable to conceal all of his mirth.

"And what did that have to do with aunt Lyanna?" Arya asked, voice indicating that she didn't know where Bran was going with this, "How do you know she loved him back? In fact, I heard that she was disgusted by Robert. Considered him disloyal and childish. No one _stole _Lyanna from Robert, she was never his to begin with. She chose to leave with Rhaegar. At least that's what I think happened. Some people think she ran off with him. That's what I would have done." Bran swiveled his head up to stare at his sister's grey eyes to see if she was playing a cruel jape on him, but her face was completely serious now.

"If Jaqen were in Rhaegar's place and Gendry in Robert's," Arya quipped, stony eyes lacking any humor, "I'd have left to go to King's Landing a long time ago."

Bran knew he shouldn't protest given what Arya did best was challenge, but he did anyway, "Like Sansa did when she was promised to Joffrey?"

Arya's expression didn't change. Neither fury nor cynical humor appeared at all, "Sansa's situation was no different from Lyanna's with Robert's. She was sold for power and alliances. She was sold off like cattle to benefit the so called nobility. You feel sorry for the stag? Oh yes, poor Robert. It's terrible that Lyanna may possibly have freed herself from being sold into his chains. Poor Gendry. It's terrible that the woman he claims to love chooses to love a bastard child and be happy without marriage. Poor Gendry for the woman he wants to bed not bowing to his needs. I don't think we can feel too bad for Robert. After all, he created plenty of bastards, and he didn't care about them."

Bran felt chilled to his bones. He tried to swallow again, but found he couldn't. What could anyone say to that? Robert had had many children. In fact, now that everyone knew the truth about Joffrey and the still living Myrcella and Tommen, all his children were illegitimate. Robert had wanted a submissive woman. Bran heard the stories about their aunt just like everyone in Winterfell. Lyanna was no soft and submissive woman. She never would have been happy as Robert's wife. The rumors were, even spoken by his and Arya's father himself that she was very much like Arya. Arya never would be happy as someone's wife or submitting to anyone. He supposed it was the way of things. It was really Robert's blood that was the problem. Robert loved, but was not loved back. And his son loved but was not loved back.

That was the curse of the stag he supposed, worse than any curse befalling the Starks or the Targaryens.

"Lyanna didn't love Robert." He finally admitted, more than sure he was right, from the stories.

Arya's smirk returned when she said the next words, "And I don't love Gendry," she started grinning again, appearing grim and acerbic once more, "Poor stags indeed."


End file.
